


retirement (need to be needed)

by didthattwinkjustcommittreason



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Court Sorceress Morgana (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Morgana (Merlin), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), dragoon doesnt count, everyone does, it's honestly not that sad, retirement is for old people, silly merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didthattwinkjustcommittreason/pseuds/didthattwinkjustcommittreason
Summary: Considering Merlin’s impulsive behavior, it might have come as a surprise to know just how long he spent deciding that perhaps it was time to retire.He wondered if he had tired himself out, like when Arthur pushed the knights too hard at the beginning of training and had to end early. And then he wondered if he just couldn’t take the peace, if part of him had gotten used to the danger or, gods forbid, thrived on it, and now some part of it just felt distinctly unsatisfying.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 132





	retirement (need to be needed)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly morgana as court sorceress never crossed my mind until i saw that tag lmao. not sure how i feel about that? but it seemed like an interesting path to take
> 
> sorry this kind of drags in the beginning

Merlin was known for some of his more spur-of-the-moment decisions. His brilliant (and not so brilliant) quickflash ideas. His life-altering, monumental choices grounded in instinct and almost nothing else.

It was one of these instances that gave him the idea to propose Morgana as Court Sorceress. Oh yes, it was a bumpy road, certainly almost killed them all, but it proved to be an ingenious move. After she in her deepstaken bitterness found it in herself to forgive, and now strive for a better future, all of Camelot’s magical enemies began to fade, bit by bit, raging storm clouds suddenly streaks of white cirrus drifting away in the wind.

Somehow, all they’d been through seemed to solidify her relationship with the king better than it was even in those vulnerable moments from their childhood Arthur’d let slip about. Gwen was distrustful for the longest, hurting and angry, but gradually the rift between them inevitably settled as they spent more and more time together, now inseparable. She’d caught Merlin off guard once, telling him she forgave him for poisoning her, and he smiled through his tears, even if he’d never forgive himself - for that, for not telling her about his magic, for pushing her away and leaving her alone and causing her so much suffering all these years.

He was glad to see her as Court Sorceress; she flourished in the position and all her charm in court from when she was just a ward had returned, but instead of being scoffed at she was  _ listened to _ . Merlin had always thought that if he and Arthur actually made it to the end of this prophecy, and if he wasn’t throttled after exposing his magic, that that’d have been _ him _ at the king’s side, bringing magic back to the lands and welcoming the era of peace. And at first, he was sort of jealous - not of the wary eyes of the other councilmen, or the way the people still cowered at her presence, of course, but a bit of the way Gwen doted on her (once the air between them had cleared, she paid the Court Sorceress more attention than her husband.) The way Arthur looked at her with trust and relief as she solved his problems and eased his load.

But Morgana was doing a magnificent job, and he knew now that this had been one of his right instincts.

Considering Merlin’s impulsive behavior, it might have come as a surprise to know just how long he spent deciding that perhaps it was time to retire.

He had faithfully followed his destiny (with a little divergence here and there,) and Camelot was the strongest and most peaceful it had ever been. Their enemies were far and few between, easily dispatched, and usually without violence. There was still work to be done - there always would be - like improving the general view on the lift of the magic ban and ensuring it would last for generations, improving general civilian life, supporting the blossoming technological and scientific advancements, and uniting Albion for good. It was all on the right track, and it even felt like the end of a storybook, the  _ happily ever after _ once all the darkness had finally been overcome.

At first, Merlin had vanquished the thought as soon as it came. He loved Camelot. He wanted to follow hair by hair as it grew and improved. And all his friends were here, everyone he cared about except his dear mother (who he did miss terribly sometimes.) 

Sometimes, he felt tired running around doing things for Arthur and Gaius. He always had, of course, but somehow it was different back then - he was a bit younger, sure, but with the weight of all their worries and every expectation and problem and threat that needed taken care of, it seemed as though he had juggled it all with some sort of crazy, long-term adrenaline that was just now wearing off.

He wondered if he had tired himself out, like when Arthur pushed the knights too hard at the beginning of training and had to end early. And then he wondered if he just couldn’t take the peace, if part of him had gotten used to the danger or, gods forbid, thrived on it, and now some part of it just felt distinctly unsatisfying.

Gradually, the idea returned to his thoughts with more frequency when he watched them all sitting at the Round Table, taking breaks from serious discussion to laugh and joke, or the mornings he helped Gaius (mostly to extend the physician’s patience) with teaching a small group of healers through a new apprenticeship program Arthur had set up. He felt it nagging at him when he called to Kilgharrah once, just to be friendly and have a normal conversation that wasn’t crucial to prevent Camelot’s doom, only to find that the dragon had very little at all to say to him. He found himself writing to his mother more, something he hadn’t had time for previously, and as their letters gravitated towards nothing but feelings (there was little for him to say about his life at the moment, and never much to describe in Ealdor beyond a paragraph or two) he found himself wondering what it’d be like to just return to farmlife, to her, to ensure his mother that they were both safe at last.

The hardest of it all was Arthur.

Every time he thought about what it would mean to leave Arthur, Merlin would banish the whole cluster of thoughts with panic. If he ever wanted to shut up his nagging doubts, all he had to do was picture the king’s smile - he really was hopeless, wasn’t he? - and they all dissipated.

At first.

Until he saw less and less of Arthur each day. He was, Merlin well knew,  _ busy _ , and didn’t have time for their clumsy adventures or competitive insult slinging. He didn’t follow Merlin around to pester him or indulge in vulnerable moments of uncertainty. He didn’t ask Merlin to show him tricks of magic or force him to recount stories about  _ what was it that one time you gave me donkey ears,  _ Mer _ lin? _

And he realized, finally, that Arthur - er, and Camelot, didn’t really need him anymore.

Which shouldn’t matter - gods knew it had depended on him enough - but maybe part of it was that, well, he  _ needed  _ to  _ be needed _ , for a lack of better words. He had to step to the sidelines now, and he should be relieved, but he felt hurt. For once, all was well and happy, and his heart ached. He felt horribly guilty when Arthur studied him one afternoon.

“What’s wrong?”

The two simple words were a blow to his chest, because what  _ was _ wrong?

“Nothing,” he shrugged, focusing on the shirt he was folding.

“ _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur said in that familiar way that made Merlin’s throat swell even thicker. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Not like you’d be able to tell,” he quipped.

Arthur glowered at him, but there was no real heat. Revealing his magic had been a maddeningly dramatic and painful affair, but they’d gotten to the point that jokes about it were okay. Pretty much everything reached that point in their friendship.

The king strode over to him, and Merlin dropped the shirt in surprise when Arthur put him in a headlock and began to ravage his hair without mercy.

“Arthur!” he whined, failing to control the pitch of his voice as he clawed against the muscled arm wrapped around his neck. “Let go of me, you prat!”

“Tell me what’s bothering you, dollophead.”

“That’s  _ my _ -”

“Your word, I know,” he could practically hear Arthur roll his eyes. The hand in his hair dropped away, but the arm at his throat remained.

“Uh, Arthur?”

“I’m waiting. I have all day.”

“No you don’t,” scoffed the warlock. “You still have another council meeting, if not two, and I thought you were going to visit the lower town.”

He could feel the king shrug a shoulder. “This is more important.”

Arthur had to be joking - he couldn’t place his manservant over his duties (unless it was a life-or-death scenario, which appeared to be an exception, though thankfully they shouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.) But the fact that he said it at all pricked Merlin’s heart, and he knew he couldn’t leave this man behind.

He suddenly went limp in the king’s arms and took advantage of Arthur’s surprise to escape, both from the headlock and the question.

Interactions like these had become rare. He’d felt distant ever since Arthur and Gwen married; a new understanding had grown between them that Merlin wasn’t privy to. Even worse was how Morgana, after cracking Gwen’s shell, slipped into an easier friendship with the two than he ever could, despite the fact that he was arguably, at least at one point, closer to both. The three of them were a pretty painting together; they fit well at the head of the kingdom.

Merlin was the same as he’d always been. He wasn’t bitter, or upset about that, really, just that he felt like he could no longer fit in. He’d always been best suited to the background - and he preferred it that way. He’d done all he could for them, for Camelot, and now they had each other to finish building up the kingdom.

Perhaps he was being selfish. But part of him. . .well, sometimes it was difficult, knowing Arthur was just out of reach. Not in  _ that _ way - he’d known that was out of the question before the  _ first _ time Arthur proposed to Gwen. But he felt like he was watching their friendship slowly deteriorate before his eyes, and maybe he’d rather take the good memories with him instead of staying here to watch them fade away.

After several painful months, one night at a feast, Merlin saw Arthur at the head of the table, beaming lazily at his handpicked court and knights, and observed how they all looked up at him, the trust and goodwill and peace, and his mind finally said,  _ They’re alright. He’s alright. Better than alright. _ And he nodded to himself when suddenly Arthur looked up at him and smiled, and this time, Merlin smiled back with his thoughts intact.

The last thing he wanted to do was make a scene. A letter was a little too cheap after everything, so he just decided to limit his farewells, and keep them short. 

Gaius looked more astonished than anything, as though he had no clue how he was supposed to respond. He asked Merlin if this was what he truly wanted, and after the warlock reassured him it was, the physician promised there’d always be a place for him here.

He took his bags with him to the king’s chambers. It was funny; he’d arrived with so few possessions when he first stepped foot in Camelot, and after a decade or so he was leaving with pretty much the same amount. Nicer clothes, a few keepsakes. It was freeing to think about, like he could return to his life before with no issue. Close the circle where it started.

Almost barging in as usual, he caught himself and knocked, aware of how early it was. He did not need to intrude on the king and queen unannounced.

“Come in,” grumbled Arthur’s voice, clearly just awakened.

Suddenly, he was a little nervous, uncertain of how the king would take it, but he stamped down the doubts and entered the chambers. It was strange to think that this might be the last time he would be in the king’s chambers, until he visited again. Only, if he was just a visitor and not the king’s manservant, he would have no reason to be in here, so it probably was the last time.

He was distracted, trying to memorize every detail of the room when a baffled “Merlin?” came from the bed.

Arthur was sitting up, hair mussed from sleep, and squinting at him incredulously. “Did you just  _ knock _ ?”

“I-” his eyes dropped to the bed, which was empty save the ruffled sheets. “Gwen - I didn’t want to-”

“She’s with Morgana,” Arthur said, as if this were obvious.

“Oh,” Merlin said, not certain what to do with this information.

Arthur sighed and attempted to tame his hair as he sat there. “You’re never this early. Is something wrong?”

Merlin shouldered his bags to a more comfortable position and came to stand in front of his friend. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just. . .” he swayed on his feet. “Wanted to let you know I’m going back to Ealdor.”

The king stopped fussing with his golden locks and looked up. “It has been awhile, hasn’t it. . .” He noticed Merlin’s bags and appeared affronted. “What, right now?”

Merlin blinked at him. “Yes. . .”

Huffing out an exasperated sigh, Arthur scrubbed a hand down his face. “You think you dictate my agenda, don’t you. Why didn’t you let me know beforehand? It’d have made rescheduling the meetings so much easier.”

“What?”

“You didn’t think you were going alone, did you?” Arthur leveled him with a look as he stood.

All the certainty Merlin had entered with evaporated. He shook his head slowly. “Arthur- I-”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Arthur waved a hand at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve got some fresh air, and I’d love to visit Hunith.”

“I’m not visiting,” Merlin bit out, not missing how unsteady his voice had become.

The expression he received from Arthur said he was being difficult, stupid, or both.

“I’m returning,” he said slowly. “For good.”

Arthur appeared truly startled for a second, then frowned, heading towards the washbasin. “Gods, Merlin, you’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m going home, Arthur.”

His use of the word  _ home _ seemed to unsettle them both.

“What? Why?” the king said incredulously, spinning back around.

Despite rationalizing it to himself for half a year, Merlin discovered he didn’t have a proper answer prepared. “I - well - I miss my mother, for one,” he said defensively, crossing his arms as if to suppress the frantic beating of his heart. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting a confrontation like this. He should’ve known the prat would be difficult on principle.

“Hunith can live here,” he said, waving around at his castle. “All you had to do was ask, Merlin. I’ll give her the best room available. She can live like a queen.”

“No,” he said, elongating the  _ o _ , “she would not like that. She couldn’t stand it, I don’t think. Her home is in Ealdor.” Before Arthur could get in another word, he admitted, “It’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-” he took a breath. “I first came to Camelot having no idea what to expect. When Kilgharrah dropped my destiny on me, I thought it was a bunch of bollocks.” He smiled faintly at the memory. “But he was right. Helping you,” he lifted his gaze, “protecting  _ you _ , Arthur, was exactly what I was meant to do. There is nothing that could bring me greater satisfaction than knowing I played a role in your kingdom. But I’m. . . I’ve fulfilled my purpose,” he finished lamely. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.  _ I’m not needed here, Arthur. Not anymore. _

Whatever emotion Merlin caught a glimpse of on the king’s face, it was quickly swallowed by anger. “Just what are you going on about? You’re actually leaving?!” he yelled. “What happened to serving me until the day you died?!”

The warlock stared at him, caught off guard as his own words were thrown back in his face. They were both silent for a moment.

“If you-”  _ need me _ “-tell me to stay, then I will.” He said it simply, shrugged his shoulders, allowing a strap of one of his bags to fall to the wayside.

Arthur was searching his face for something. “You don’t want to stay,” he said, his own shoulders sagging. “And why would you?” The man sank back down to the bed, looking tired.

It was a rhetorical question, and Merlin was unsure how to respond.

The king clamped his forefinger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. “I know I’ve always taken you for granted, Merlin,” he began, voice low. “I know you don’t have to be my manservant and that it was stupid and selfish to keep you as one when you’re capable of much more. I just. . .” he waved his hand around in an empty gesture. “I didn’t want things to change. I felt like -” he shook his head, “it’s stupid, but I thought the best way to keep you close was to leave you where you were. And that was wrong.”

Merlin was rooted to the spot, shocked into silence. The opposite strap of his bag slid off as well, and when it hit the floor, he jumped.

“There’s so much here for you, Merlin,” Arthur went on, glancing at the warlock briefly. “You could be the next physician. Or - if I weren’t so selfish, I’d’ve made you an advisor long ago. Hell, I’ll even knight you, if you want.”

“Oh, no,” Merlin declined the last, finally finding his voice. Arthur chuckled wetly, facing the floor.

“I won’t tell you to stay,” he said, sounding almost choked, and he quickly cleared his throat. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

The warlock didn’t realize his eyes had welled up until he suddenly couldn’t see. “Sometimes I miss. . .before. When things were harder.” Hastily, he added, “That’s really dumb. Of course things are better now. I just-”

“I get what you mean,” Arthur said. “It was much easier to swing a sword with my warlock guardian angel at my back than it is to sit through meetings all day.”

Relief tugged at him, knowing that Arthur felt the same, at least partially, and it made him want to spill every last worry he had bottled inside. He started to say more before he caught himself.

Arthur finally looked at him again, eyes rimmed red, and shook his head with a little laugh. “Out with it,” he said. “We’re both already crying like girls, might as well say the rest.”

Merlin swallowed. “I don’t know,” he said, trying to downplay his next words like they weren’t eating him from the inside out. “Now that the prophecy’s over, or here, or whatever, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.”

The king had risen as the warlock spoke, frowning. Not in a judgemental way, but with a concerned divot in his brow as he listened closely to what Merlin was saying. He thought he’d calmed down but then Arthur’s face right in front of him became a blur and  _ damn it _ , he was still sobbing like an idiot. “I feel like I’m not needed anymore,” he gasped out the confession.

A fist bumped gently against the back of his head and Merlin let himself fall forward onto Arthur’s shoulder, thoroughly soaking his shirt with tears and snot and all things ugly. Arthur just rubbed his back and let him weep quietly.

“I’m sorry,” the king murmured into his hair. “I wish you would’ve told me this earlier. I feel like such an arse.”

“It’s not your fault,” Merlin mumbled into his tunic.

“But it is,” Arthur insisted. “I should’ve made you an advisor. Or an ambassador. No. I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The king heaved a sigh. “I told you already.” At first Merlin thought he was going to leave it at that, but then he added, “and I can’t stand any of the others, gods help me.”

“They do a much better job than I do,” the warlock pointed out with a small sniffle.

“I know, but I like the way you do it,” Arthur said, clamping a hand down on the back of his neck. “You’ve ruined me.”

Merlin chuckled and tried to ignore the heat spreading from where Arthur’s fingers were settled on his vertebrae, aware that he should be stepping away by now, but unwilling to leave the embrace. Arthur had grown more tolerant of touch with the years, but seldom sought it out or initiated it. Merlin would take what he would get. He always had.

Before Arthur could tell him to get off, a knock startled them both. The warlock jumped back and the hand on his neck fell away as the door opened to reveal Gwen.

“Arthur, I need to talk to you about. . .” she trailed off as she caught sight of the manservant. “Oh, Merlin! How are-” Evidently, his face was still wrecked, because her countenance transformed. “Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m just a disaster as usual,” he said as he mopped up his eyes, not wanting to get into it again. 

She appeared indecisive, as if unsure whether to pursue his dismissive tone or not. As she pursed her lips, Merlin thought that a few years back she’d have rocked back and forth, from the balls of her feet to her heels, openly displaying her uncertainty. Now she was more stoic and controlled. The past few years had matured them all. Still, he found himself missing her easy smile and overexcited movements.

Instead she turned to Arthur, who had made it back to the washbasin. He lifted his face, dripping, and reached for a towel that wasn’t there. Without thinking, Merlin conjured one beside the king’s searching hand, only truly registering his action at Arthur’s muttered  _ thanks _ .

When he turned back around, there was no evidence he’d shed a single tear. Feeling embarrassed and as though he were imposing on something important, Merlin glanced around for his bag so that he could leave.

Arthur caught onto his movements. “You’re not still trying to sneak off, are you,  _ Mer _ lin?” he said accusingly. Before Merlin could protest, the king nodded to his bed. “Sit down. We’ll continue our conversation in a moment.”

When the warlock made no immediate movement, Arthur raised his eyebrows at him and looked pointedly at his bed once again. Feeling like a scolded hunting dog, Merlin scowled at him, and it crossed his mind to stick his tongue out childishly before he settled for an irritated huff.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, returning his attention to his wife. “You were saying, Guinevere?”

She hesitated. “It’s about Morgana.”

Merlin’s stomach dropped out as the words  _ be careful what you wish for _ danced in his head. Alarmed, he interjected, “Morgana?” despite the fact he was not really part of the discussion. But the couple did not seem to mind.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” she assured him hastily, blushing. “Just that-” her eyes darted from the warlock to the king, and Merlin understood she didn’t want to say it in front of him. He stood from where he had gingerly sat on the edge of Arthur’s bed, only for the man’s hand to settle down heavily on his shoulder. He glanced over, but the king was still calmly focused on Gwen. “Go on.”

“She proposed,” Gwen spilled, face red.

Merlin’s nose wrinkled of its own accord in his confusion. “To who?” he said dumbly, then felt awful for not keeping his mouth shut.

To his amazement, Gwen lifted a perfectly manicured hand and nibbled on the edge of one of the nails as her gaze drifted between the two men. After a moment, he caught sight of the shine of tears in her eyes — it was turning out to be an emotional day in the king’s chambers.

Gwen shook her head and smiled, blinking them away. “To  _ me _ ,” she whispered.

Struck speechless with astonishment, he barely registered as Gwen reached up and removed her crown. “I relinquish my title,” she said, offering it back to Arthur, salty lines tracing down her face coupled with a blinding smile.

“Guinevere,” Arthur said, and Merlin was startled by his even tone. He would have thought the king would fly into a rage like he had with Lancelot’s shade. “You are an excellent queen. As I’ve said before, it’s unnecessary-”

She shook her head, and for some reason, she glanced at Merlin before meeting her husband’s eyes. “No. I’m glad to have done all I have, and I will continue to be by your side in many ways. Just not this one.” She pressed it into his hands without waiting any longer and twirled away with the easy happiness of the serving girl Merlin met long ago. It warmed his heart, despite everything else.

“If only it were that easy. We’ll talk more later,” Arthur promised. He lifted the bejeweled metal. “If you change your mind, Guinevere-”

She paused in the doorway, a shy smile crossing her face. “If I change my mind, I’m sure Morgana can fashion me a crown.” Gwen swung around the doorway with ease; as if the crown had been weighing her down, her graceful steps were now more light-footed and dance-like without it. She disappeared, shutting the door behind her.

The two men resigned to stillness. Merlin was still trying to figure out what had happened until he noticed Arthur’s hand was still on his shoulder. “Arthur,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry-”

The king startled him as he threw back his head and laughed. “C’mon, Merlin,” he said. “How thick headed are you? That was a long time coming.” He made a motion with the hand still holding the crown. “We’ve been talking about it for weeks now.”

“But you love Gwen,” Merlin remained puzzled.

The king glanced down at the crown. “I really did. But we’ve never quite been right for each other.” He snorted. “And I’m certainly not as smitten with her as Morgana is.” He quirked a brow at Merlin. “You really didn’t notice?”

If anything, the revelation should have made him happy, but suddenly the warlock felt horrible all over again. No, he  _ hadn’t _ noticed. He hadn’t been in the know at all. At once it came back to him - Gwen settling next to Morgana at each Round Table meeting, brushing strands out of the Court Sorceress’s eyes. Morgana toying with Gwen’s rings and whispering flowers into her hair. Gwen rubbing her thumb over Morgana’s knuckles as she spoke out to the council, glaring down any doubtful councilmen.

How stupid had he been not to see it? How far had he slipped away from them all?

“You’ve really been distant, haven’t you?” Arthur realized. He steered Merlin back to his bed - honestly, he had an actual table with chairs, was he really so reluctant to stray from his sleeping place this early? - and they both sat down. “Hey,” the king startled him from his ongoing musings over Gwen and Morgana and how far he’d felt from his three closest friends. He looked back up.

“Tell me what you want,” Arthur said, sincere and simple as that. 

And for a second, meeting those open, clear blue eyes, he almost did. He thought about saying,  _ I want what Gwen and Morgana have. I want that for us. _ Other than his magic reveal, which would always take the top, he’d never felt so loose lipped in his life. But as the words started forming in his larynx, he grit his teeth so hard it hurt. Gods, imagine that. . . imagine Arthur finally reassuring his worries and officially making them equals, and Merlin fucking it up by telling the man he was hopelessly in love with him. His stomach twisted at the thought of Arthur’s reaction. How quickly would he recoil when he learned his bes- his manservant had been pining after him for years?

At his silence, Arthur went on. “C’mon, Merlin. I can do pretty much anything for you,” he said, flashing the type of self-assured grin that the warlock was embarrassed to discover still left him hot when he was on the receiving end.

“How about a day off?” he said on reflex, and the king looked at him in disbelief for a split second before he pushed him hard enough to knock him backwards onto the unmade bed.

“Never,” Arthur said haughtily. He poked the warlock, who shied away from the ticklish dig in his stomach. “Seriously,  _ Mer _ lin.”

He sat back up, knowing his hair was disheveled from the way the king’s eyes landed on it. “Whatever keeps me closest to your side,” the warlock told him, not a hint of a joke in his voice.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Merlin wondered nervously if the implications of his statement made him transparent. Then Arthur nodded at him.

“We’ll figure it out,” he sighed, rising. Suddenly, he plunked the crown down haphazardly on Merlin’s head. “Here, hold this.”

“Ow!” Merlin complained, reaching up to steady the crown so that the priceless heirloom didn’t drop to the floor and roll under Arthur’s bed. The king was heading over to his desk. “Might as well knock me over the head!”

He watched as Arthur began thumbing through his papers. “I can’t find that stupid quill,” he said in exasperation.

Forgetting the crown he’d intended to take off, Merlin spotted the feather on the ground by the front corner of the desk and gently lifted it up before his friend’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, plucking the utensil out of the air and beginning to scribble on some parchment.

Merlin rose to stand over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“If you must know,” Arthur said without looking up, “I’m attempting to rearrange the next few days so that we can go see Hunith.”

It was moments like this that made Merlin feel justified for his feelings. It wasn’t  _ wholly _ his fault he was in love with the prat. He couldn’t stop a big stupid smile from stretching across his face. He leaned down over the king so that he could point at a few items on the full list. “Elyan’s gotten really good with settling minor disputes. I’d pass off the farming and village feuds to him, if you think he wouldn’t mind.” His finger trailed down the page. “And Gaius said that he won’t have a better prediction on our lovely annual cold outbreak for awhile, so that can be pushed back. . .”

“Would you quit hovering?” Arthur said, only half irritated, glancing over his shoulder. His amused expression froze and faded away as he stared at Merlin, eyes rising to his head.

The warlock flushed as he reached up to remove the crown, but Arthur caught his wrist before he could complete the action. They remained like that for a beat too long, the air in the room thick and still, until the warlock’s wrist was released and they both dropped their hands. Arthur Pendragon’s face was  _ pink.  _ Merlin didn’t want to know what shade his was.

“Merlin,” the king’s voice came out thick. He cleared it and tried again, but if anything, it got more hoarse. “If you don’t want — tell me stop,” he said, and after a beat, surged forward.

The warlock’s hands lifted to cup his face as they made contact, mouths fitting together sloppily with desperation. Arthur had both hands fisted in Merlin’s shirt, and he maneuvered him against the wall for convenience. When Merlin’s head fell back against the surface, the crown let out a loud clang. The warlock watched in wonder as Arthur pulled away, hungry eyes again finding the headwear, lips bruising, hair askance.

“And all these years I thought it’d look stupid on you,” he smirked through his panting.

Merlin too was having issue breathing, and this certainly didn’t help. “Really?” All these years? Had Arthur. . .? Had he also thought about-?

“No,” he admitted, and just as Merlin deflated, he ameliorated, “I knew you’d look good, just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

Merlin’s smile didn’t get to reach its full potential before Arthur dove back in. When he finally got a chance to breathe again, the king was unwinding his neckerchief. All his safeguards had vanished - for the Triple Goddess’s sake, it might have just been a fit of passion over a head accessory- but the confessions were spilling before he could stop them.

“I love you,” he managed after some air had successfully made the journey to his lungs. “I have for so long. Really, really long,” he laughed as the other man nudged his nose where his neck met his shoulder. “Pathetically so,” he continued, throwing all his vulnerability out there, “you have no idea-”

Arthur paused sucking on his neck, practically growling, “Oh, I have  _ every _ idea.” Their lips met again, Arthur practically biting. “Try falling in love with your bumbling manservant, only to find out he’s actually been saving your ass for a decade-”

“Try falling for a prince,” Merlin gasped back, “a king, who lets you get away with murder but won’t give you a fucking hug.”

Arthur tugged him from the wall so that he could wrap his arms around the warlock, and their next kiss was achingly sweet. Merlin’d felt like he was on fire before, but now he positively melted.

“How much time have we wasted?” Arthur whispered softly against his ear as his arms slid away to where his hands could grip Merlin’s waist. “How long could I have had this?”

Merlin had intended to volunteer a  _ We’re both idiots _ statement, but then Arthur’s grip became a punishing pinch. “You were going to leave!” he cried incredulously, knocking their foreheads together. The crown tilted merrily, and neither moved to fix it.

“Maybe I still should,” he teased, shrugging. “Royal bedwarmer, farmer — it’s still up in the air.”

“I’m pissed at you,” Arthur said, even as he kissed his nose. “But at least we’ve got this new job thing sorted out-”

“Oh, have we?”

A knock startled them for the second time that day, but instead of separating, Arthur yelled a rather unkingly, “Go away!”

Morgana burst in before they could decide if it was worth keeping a secret. She appeared surprised for only a moment before a sly smile curved her mouth.

“Arthur,” she tutted, “you’re a married man.”

The king rolled his eyes as he disentangled himself from Merlin. “And I’m sure you and Gwen have been having wonderful little girl slumber parties.”

Merlin choked on his laughter, though he was a bit embarrassed to be caught. Morgana was not fazed. “It’s good to see you smile, Merlin,” she directed at him, “though I will never understand how my brother manages to be the cause.”

For lack of a (short) answer, the warlock knocked his head against the king’s shoulder fondly. He was willing to accept the idea that Arthur still wasn’t inclined to display his emotions, but after a beat an arm slid around his waist and tugged him closer.

“Should I tell them plans have changed?” Morgana asked, jabbing a dramatic thumb behind her. “Shall they make it a double wedding?”

Her and Gwen’s wedding was not yet in planning, of course — at least not officially. Before he and Gwen silvertongued the law, it’d only wreak havoc and cause a scandal. But Arthur answered her anyways. “Come now, Morgana,” he said, “we’ve always been awful at sharing. Why would we start now?”

She seemed delighted by his response. “I think that’s the smartest conclusion you’ve ever drawn. Perhaps the only one,” she added, musing.

As Merlin guffawed, Arthur scowled. “Get out already, would you?”

Morgana crossed her arms. “I didn’t just come here to catch you snogging Merlin, you know. I wanted to ensure the straightness of your priorities.”

“Priorities?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

She stepped further into the room. “I know how things get pushed around in your schedules,” she said, flicking a hand towards his desk and ruffling the papers lightly for emphasis. “I wanted to know when you planned to let me marry Gwen.” A flicker of something deeper overcame the teasing cheerfulness that had dominated her eyes since she entered.

“Soon,” Arthur promised. His grip tightened around Merlin. “In a week.”

“A week!” Morgana cried, enraged.

“Before I start,” Arthur finished, having the decency to sound a bit guilty.

“Arthur Pendragon, I will turn you into a toad,” she threatened.

“That’s no way to speak to your king,” he said mildly. His hand found Merlin’s and the warlock looked to him as he rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. “I’m not that concerned.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” she said darkly, with the practice of a true villain. “Council meeting’s starting,” she added as she turned back to the door.

“I won’t be able to attend,” the king said. “Tell them to start without me for now.”

The Court Sorceress grinned wickedly. “Oh, I’ll come up with an excuse.” The door slammed behind her.

“Uh, Arthur,” Merlin began. “You do realize she’s going to tell them we’re f-”

“I know,” he said, merely amused. “But now we have another reason to visit Hunith.”

“. . .we do?”

“So I can ask her if I can marry you, you bumpkin.”

Merlin’s heart sat heavy in his throat. “Arthur,” he half laughed, “You didn’t even propose. And we only just. . .”

Arthur looked up from his papers and cleared his throat. “Right, right. Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He looked sheepish, running a hand through his hair. “Gods, I almost feel like a teenager again, rushing like that.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Merlin assured him. “We’ve been stagnant in this for so long, after all. I just-” he hesitated, “I want this more than anything. But this is a big decision that will affect you as king. I’m almost certain it will make things farther.”

Arthur snorted. “When have either of those points stopped you before?” He came back around the desk and stood in front of him. The king set his hands down on the warlock’s shoulders.

“You thought you weren’t needed,” he started, “but I’ve always needed you by my side, Merlin. There’s no one else. There never will be.” He reached up and at last straightened the crown on Merlin’s brow, hands lingering on his face. “I’m asking you to marry me, Merlin.”

His hands slid away as he dropped down to a knee. The warlock nearly choked at the sight of his king kneeling to him. “You didn’t even have to ask,” Merlin said, pulling him back up to his feet.

He only realized he was crying again when Arthur gently brushed at his cheeks. Merlin leaned into the soft gesture and found himself deceived as the king scooped him up. “Hey!”

“Might as well make good on Morgana’s rumors,” he grinned.

Merlin wondered to himself how he’d ever convinced himself to leave. This was home. Not even Camelot, really. Arthur was. He belonged by his side.

And Arthur belonged by his.

**Author's Note:**

> so when i proofread it didn't seem that sad at all lmao but when i started writing this three days ago, at one point i was crying for some reason and when i got up to blow my nose it started bleeding which was Highly Inconvenient and a real vibe killer, anyways you didn't need to know that, i just thought it was funny
> 
> not sure i love how this turned out, it seems a little disjointed and all over the place looking over it, but uh, thanks for giving me a chance and reading ! hope you have a lovely day and better time management than i do.


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